


another way to get to know you

by princetteofcats



Series: Wolf Like Me [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Halloween AU, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, McHanzo - Freeform, Paranormal, Werewolf AU, Werewolf Hanzo, Werewolf Hunter McCree, drunk feelings, hanzo is sad, idk man it's an AU, mccree is a good guy, please just let them be happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 13:15:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8373580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princetteofcats/pseuds/princetteofcats
Summary: “Yer pretty good company, ya know that, Shimada?” he chuckled, tongue a little thick in his mouth, though not unpleasantly so.	“Mm?” Hanzo hummed in return, lowering his glass and looking at Jesse fully. He tilted his head to the side, as if the words weren’t quite processing correctly. “...Really?”	“Yup,” Jesse nodded, laughing again as he lowered his drink and tilted his head back, eyes drooping lazily, “Pretty sure I’d’ve lost my damn marbles without ya here, keepin’ me company ‘n’ all. I’m glad ya came with me.”Jesse and Hanzo wind up snowed into a Volskaya inn, and take to coping with the cold and boredom as best they know how; drinking. Snow and whiskey make an apt environment for sharing secrets that yield to common ground between the unlikely duo.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place pretty close to where "mirror my malady" left off. My plan for this series is to make a bunch of one-shots in this universe that can stand alone just fine, but that are enriched by reading the others. (Wowee that sounds... pretentious, lol.)
> 
> Big thanks to my buddy [whensaturnrings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whensaturnrings) for all the help and support and beta-ing !! 'u' <3
> 
> I was really touched by the kind reception the first fic got, so I hope that you all like this one, as well !! Feel free to drop me a line over on [Tumblr](http://enbyromeo.tumblr.com/) if you want to chat about anything or give me ideas.
> 
> Title is from "Wolf Like Me" by TV On The Radio. If that doesn't just scream "werewolf AU" then I don't know what does, tbh.

Volskaya was entirely too cold for Jesse’s taste. He had grown up in blazing hot summers, had once called home a miles-long expanse of red-baked Earth, dotted with thickets of cacti and distant, flat plateaus, and little else. It wasn’t as if he had never encountered snow before; he had seen many places since he had taken up this line of work. It was just that, of all the temperaments of weather he had acquainted himself with during his travels, snow was, by far, the least enjoyable of the bunch.

Funny, then, that he and Hanzo had remained in the area for so long. The job he’d been called in for had been simple enough (a fledgling vampire that hadn’t taken quite right to the bite), and he had gotten it done quickly (rest their soul). He had anticipated them staying for only a couple days at most, but he hadn’t considered the possibility of a storm, and now they had been here for over a week. 

Aleksandra Zaryanova, the woman who had called him in, also happened to own a bar, with a few rooms in the upstairs that she rented out to the odd traveler or two. She had been kind enough to offer one up to Jesse and Hanzo when the storm hit, especially after they had taken care of her request so quickly. She had been a more than gracious host, providing them a steady flow of food and drink. _Especially_ drink. She didn’t have sake (Jesse had asked), but they made do.

Between the biting cold, unceasing snowfall, and being trapped indoors for such a long stretch of time, Jesse was damn near on the verge of losing his mind; or, rather, he would have been, if it weren’t for the aforementioned plentiful drink. Whiskey had a way of settling in his chest, heavy and warm, just enough to take the edge off of a particularly rough day. Much to his delight, Hanzo seemed more than happy to join him in such coping sessions. Jesse wasn’t entirely sure why he had been surprised by this; they had, after all, had their first meeting in a bar.

It was during one such night of drinking that Jesse found himself sitting on the floor of their shared room, his back against the side of the bed and his elbows propped up lazily on his knees, a drink held loosely in one hand. Hanzo was beside him, his legs tucked beneath himself (Jesse remembered that Hanzo had called it _seiza_ style) and one arm slung over the bed as he knocked back the last of his own drink. A mostly-empty bottle of whiskey sat between them. Hanzo’s face was flushed; a delicate, pink dusting across his cheeks and nose that Jesse had grown overly fond of seeing. He smiled as he brought his glass to his lips, again.

“Yer pretty good company, ya know that, Shimada?” he chuckled, tongue a little thick in his mouth, though not unpleasantly so.

“Mm?” Hanzo hummed in return, lowering his glass and looking at Jesse fully. He tilted his head to the side, as if the words weren’t quite processing correctly. “...Really?”

“Yup,” Jesse nodded, laughing again as he lowered his drink and tilted his head back, eyes drooping lazily, “Pretty sure I’d’ve lost my damn marbles without ya here, keepin’ me company ‘n’ all. I’m glad ya came with me.”

A small silence passed, and Jesse stirred from his moment of relaxation, worried that he had accidentally said something off putting (Lord knew it wouldn’t have been the first time). He looked to Hanzo, already formulating some kind of preemptive apology, but was surprised to see the other smiling softly at him. Jesse blinked, confused but not unhappy. “What’s with that look?” he asked, chuckling with relief.

“What ‘look?’ Am I not allowed to smile when you are kind to me?” Hanzo teased, his grin crooking to the side.

“I ain’t bein’ kind,” Jesse replied, rueful, “I’m just bein’ honest. ‘Sides, I dunno how anyone could smile here, what with all this snowy bullshit. It’s too cold to be smilin’.”

“It hasn’t stopped you,” Hanzo noted, lifting his glass to his lips to hide his snickering. As soon as he made the motion, though, he seemed to also remember that his drink was empty. He laughed louder, this time, tickled by his own mistake, and Jesse couldn’t help but join in with a chuckle of his own.

After calming himself, Jesse reached and grabbed the bottle between them, gesturing towards Hanzo’s cup with a grin of his own. “Top ya off?”

“Please,” Hanzo replied with a nod, holding his glass out and watching Jesse pour, splitting the last of the bottle between them.

“How come you ain’t bothered by this cold?” Jesse asked, placing the now-empty container to the side and swirling the liquor in his glass, “You used to it or somethin’?”

Hanzo was quiet for a long moment, looking down at his drink thoughtfully. He took a deep breath, almost like he was trying to steady himself, before he finally replied, his tone decidedly even, as if he was putting a great deal of effort into making it so. “I suppose. When I was young, the winters could be very long. I was not unfond of them. This is not new to me.”

Jesse quirked an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised once more. Hanzo had, up to now, kept pretty quiet about… well, nearly anything concerning himself. There were passing comments, usually late at night, after they’d both been drinking, but nothing substantial. He couldn’t deny that he was curious, and maybe that was why, against his better judgment, he decided to push further.

“So, ya grew up somewhere cold?” As he said it, he regretted it; wasn’t that _exactly_ what he had just said? Jesse hid his half-grimace by taking a drink and averting his eyes. The moment that passed between them felt like forever.

“Well… only in the winters, really. Summers were usually very hot,” Hanzo replied, his voice still held in that odd, too-careful cadence. Jesse turned his eyes back to him, surprised at not being admonished. Hanzo looked back at him, face calm but eyes glimmering with something uncertain.

“Oh. Uh,” Jesse stumbled, shaking his head and wetting his lips, quickly hopping back on his metaphorical feet, “Didja like the summers, then?”

“I enjoy all of the seasons,” Hanzo replied smoothly, and Jesse was convinced that he had finally been rebuked for roundaboutly treading too far, albeit politely. He stopped short of looking away again, however, when Hanzo added, in a somewhat softer voice, “But Spring was… _is_ my favorite.”

“Yeah?” Jesse asked, his tone mirroring Hanzo’s. They both held eyes even though it seemed more than clear that both wanted nothing more than to look away.

“Yes,” Hanzo answered, nodding but otherwise stone-still, his glass held between both his hands, almost reverently so, “Where I grew up, in the Spring, the cherry trees would bloom all at once. It was beautiful,” he paused, lips still parted, as if he meant to continue. He hesitated, casting his eyes down. Jesse was still, as if worried that any movement might frighten the other away. Hanzo’s voice was barely a whisper when he added, “I miss it dearly.”

The words hit Jesse’s chest with an intensity he could not have possibly anticipated. He watched Hanzo’s face fall into a forlorn, melancholy frown that left him aching. The liquor in his gut didn’t help any, the warmth reaching up into his chest, prodding at the sentimentality that now took root there. He shook his head slowly, his voice much too quiet when he finally spoke again. “Whatcha doin’ away from it, then?”

The pain that crossed Hanzo’s face was almost startling in its sincerity, especially given how rare it was to see his face held in anything but a perfectly calculated, placid look of nonchalance. Jesse was certain that it had to have been the alcohol that allowed for such an openly wounded look, just as he was convinced that it was to blame for his own visceral reaction. He wanted to apologize, to comfort, even though the idea, alone, was absurd. He sputtered, mouth flying open but making no sound; he was, all at once, driven to act and completely at a loss.

“ _Shit._ Shit, I’m, uh, sorry--,” he stumbled, a little frantic, searching for words as he spoke them, “I didn’t mean nothin’ by it--”

“It is fine.”

Hanzo’s voice was cool, perfectly enunciated, and for a second, Jesse was almost fooled into believing that everything really was _fine._ He caught Hanzo’s eyes, however, and knew otherwise. Hanzo averted his gaze, lifted his glass and took a long drink from it, nearly draining it. From the look that flickered across his face when he drew it away, he hadn’t meant to do so. A painfully long silence passed between the two.

“Where I’m from, the ground’s real flat. Dirt’s red. The sun’s blisterin’, real unforgivin’ and all,” Jesse murmured, slow and careful. He kept his eyes away from Hanzo, though his ears were keen enough to catch the sound of fabric shifting as he turned, just slightly, to face him better.

“I loved it,” he added, his tone softer, almost thoughtful. He took a lazy sip of his drink, his mouth feeling suddenly dry and uncooperative. “I left, though. Had to. Fell in with some bad people, did some bad things, ‘fore I got swept up in this gig,” A pause, a drink, a bitter tone, “...a _lot_ of bad things.”

He could feel Hanzo’s eyes on him, trying to stare right through him, but he just couldn’t bring himself to look over, in return. He tilted his head downwards, letting loose hair and the brim of his hat shield him, at least a little.

“Goin’ home’s not an option fer some folks.” Another pause. A deep breath. He finally looked to Hanzo, met those dark, unwavering eyes with his own. His voice felt small and rough in his throat. “Fer folks like me.”

Hanzo’s eyes wavered, flickered, but did not move away. His voice was quiet, too, when he spoke in return.

“And me.”

Jesse knocked back the last of his drink, mostly to hide the effect that Hanzo’s words, coupled with such a poignant, sad stare, had on him. Hanzo, after a moment of thought, mimicked the motion, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly when he swallowed. He drew the back of his hand over his lips, a motion that Jesse would have thought too unrefined to ever catch the other doing. Hanzo closed his eyes.

“Wolves are loyal, social creatures,” he murmured, the edge of his voice frayed, raw, “They defend their pack. It is not right for a wolf to be alone.”

Jesse was silent and still, watching the other with rapt attention and an unwavering gaze. Hanzo lowered his head but kept his eyes closed. He looked distraught and in pain, as if something was tearing him open from the inside. Jesse wasn’t entirely certain that either of them were breathing.

“They are meant to protect their own, not to… to….”

The room was so quiet and still when Hanzo trailed off that Jesse was halfway convinced that he could hear the snowfall outside. He could not look away from Hanzo, who had hung his head low, his posture drooping and wilted. Jesse was, again, overcome with the desire to offer some sort of touch, some semblance of comfort. He didn’t follow through, though, until he noticed the slight tremble that worked its way up Hanzo’s back, settling in his shoulders.

“Shimada…,” Jesse whispered, reaching out to place a clumsy, well-meaning hand on Hanzo’s unsteady shoulder. He was surprised when he was not shaken off, as he had anticipated. Hanzo still did not look up, and his hair, long and black, had fallen over his shoulder, mostly shielding his face.

“You could have killed me, back in Eichenwalde,” Hanzo murmured. Jesse couldn’t quite place the tone, only knew that it left his heart even heavier than before. “I meant it, when I called you a fool, Jesse McCree. You are _foolish._ You spared me from death when I did not do the same for others, not even for my own _brother--_ ”

Hanzo’s shoulders were wracked with a violently powerful shudder, and the man seemed to curl into himself. The sound that escaped him was something between a growl and a sob, and Hanzo tried, desperately, to stifle it, covering his mouth with a white-knuckled grip. The flurry of motion allowed Jesse to see, just for a moment, his grief-stricken, tear-stained face.

Jesse was struck almost immediately with a memory he had tucked away in some dusty corner of his mind, of being young, much too young for the horrors he had seen, had _done,_ and sobbing into his hands, overcome with guilt and terror. He recalled another’s hands, calloused but gentle, gripping his shoulders, pulling him into a gruffly affectionate embrace. _“No llores, pequeñin,”_ murmured into his hair in a tone that, while stern, comforted him. Jesse blinked and swallowed hard, his throat thick and aching, eyes burning. Without thinking better of it, he reached forward and wrapped his arms around Hanzo’s shoulders.

“Hush, now,” Jesse grumbled, trying to speak from his chest so that his voice wouldn’t waver and betray his inner, anxious turmoil, “Yer the one bein’ foolish.”

Another sob, this one much less a growl, caused Hanzo’s shoulders to hitch. Once again, Jesse was surprised to not be pushed away. Hanzo still clutched at his mouth, his other arm drawn up to his chest, white-knuckled like the other. Though his body was tense, he did not move away; rather, he seemed to sink into Jesse, just a fraction, hiding his face in the fabric of his shirt.

“I killed him, I left because I _killed_ him, because I couldn’t bear to risk hurting anyone else--” The words came fast and breathless, almost strangled-sounding, and Jesse hugged him tighter, frowned deeper, as Hanzo took a shaky inhale and continued, “--But wherever I go, always, _always_ I hurt people, I kill them. I am a _monster--_ ”

“Yer not.”

“I am _irredeemable--_ ”

“Yer _not._ ”

“I deserve to di--”

“ _Hanzo._ ”

Jesse remembered looking up into the face of Gabriel Reyes, his mentor, the man who took him in and set him right and gave him a pat on his head when he said, “It’ll be okay, kid. _Tu estarás mejor,_ ” and then made damn good on that promise. He wondered, for a moment, if he had looked anything like Hanzo when he looked up at him, his teeth gritting together and his tearful face all splotched and red. Jesse frowned at him and reached up to his cheek, cupping it firmly and putting much effort into keeping his voice steady when he spoke, again.

“Yer past is a part of ya forever, y’know, but it ain’t all there is to ya.” Hanzo looked at him, choked and crying but more still, now, more present. Jesse’s tone was imploring, now, a little softer, and he couldn’t help but run the pad of his thumb over Hanzo’s cheek, real soft and gentle, as he continued, “Yer the man you make yourself to be. _You_ decide who ya are.”

A long beat of silence passed between the two, their eyes locked together. Much to Jesse’s surprise, Hanzo was the one to break it, letting his eyelids fall shut as he turned his head downwards, again, resting his forehead against Jesse’s chest, his shoulders slumping forward.

“... I am tired,” he whispered. He was no longer crying.

“... Let’s sleep, then,” Jesse murmured in return, though he didn’t move to break their embrace.

\- - - - -

Even heated words and whiskey combined weren’t enough to make a night spent sleeping on an old, wood floor either comfortable or warm. Jesse awoke groggily, rubbing at a crick in his neck and groaning at the thumping between his ears. The night prior came back to him almost immediately, and he was likewise almost instantly aware of the lack of another body being present beside him. He looked around the room, moving his jaw and grimacing at the leftover taste of booze.

Hanzo was by the window, sitting _seiza_ again, his eyes closed and his hands flat on his thighs. Jesse had seen him like this many times before; almost every morning, actually. Some kind of mediation. He tried to be quiet, not wanting to disturb him, but as soon as he moved to stand, Hanzo’s eyes were open and a heavy, silent gaze fell upon on him.

“Uh… mornin’,” Jesse greeted, tipping his hat as he readjusted it from its precarious, nearly-fallen-off perch. Hanzo eyed him for a long moment, and Jesse would have given anything to know, just for a second, what the hell was going on in the mind behind that unreadable face. A flash of tears and grief from the night, though, gave him second thoughts, and left his chest feeling tight.

“Good morning.” Cool, collected, calm. Jesse offered a smile, in return, scratching at his cheek.

“You uh… ya sleep well?”

Stupid question. Jesse berated himself internally, but tried not to let it show on his face. He was caught off guard by a quirk in Hanzo’s placid facade, a brief glimmer in his eyes and a strange turn of his lips. He looked to the window, closing his eyes again. His voice was still much too careful and precise when he replied, “Better than other nights, yes.”

Jesse had a feeling he might have to puzzle that one out for a while. He got up to his feet in a slow, clumsy motion, cracking his back and neck as he did so, resting his hands at his hips once he was finally standing. He yawned, loud and big, and jerked his chin towards the door, even though Hanzo’s eyes were closed.

“Right. Well, Imma go wash up,” Jesse mumbled, looking to the door as he took two steps towards it.

“... McCree.”

He paused almost immediately when his name was said, though it took him a little longer to actually muster up the will to look over his shoulder. His eyes met Hanzo’s. They were both too still, too on edge, and were quiet for quite some time. Hanzo broke the silence.

“Miss Zaryanova came by earlier, to say that the worst of the storm has passed. We should be able to leave soon.”

Jesse blinked once, his tongue darting out to wet his parched lips. For some reason, he hadn’t expected to hear that, had been anticipating something else, but now felt silly for even thinking it. After his moment of stupefied silence, he gave a nod and a grunt, scratching at his face again while his other hand hovered over the doorknob.

“Ah, that’s good, then. I’m ‘bout burstin’ at the seams to get movin’ again,” He tried a smile, but knew that it looked too tired, too flat. Hanzo looked at him with so much intensity that Jesse nearly felt uncomfortable. A long, dragging silence, and then;

“... Jesse.”

Hanzo’s tone was softer, now. Hesitant, almost. Jesse’s brows arched, and he looked to him with open curiosity as Hanzo looked down at his hands, now cupped together in his lap. His voice was small, barely more than a whisper, now.

“... Thank you.”

Jesse was struck with a hot burst to his chest. He blinked, taken aback, and then smiled a wide, toothy grin, unable to stifle a surprised, nervous bout of laughter. Hanzo looked to him with something that almost looked like concern, and Jesse smiled wider, tipping his hat again before cutting off his own chuckling.

“I didn’t do nothin’,” he assured, cocking his head and speaking again before Hanzo had a chance to rebuttal, “But I’ll gladly do nothin’ for ya. Anytime ya need... Hanzo.”

It was Hanzo’s turn to be speechless, and he played the part surprisingly well. He blinked a few times in a row, his lips parted slightly, his hands clasped tight in his lap. Jesse could have sworn that he saw a dust of color on his cheeks, but Hanzo looked to the window again before he could be entirely sure. He was, however, able to catch a sideways glimpse of a smile, and that was more than enough to sate him. Jesse chuckled, again, and finally opened the door, leaving Hanzo alone to finish his meditation and himself free to pursue the bathroom and a well-earned smoke break.

He hoped that the next time they drank, it would be with a shared bottle of sake instead of whiskey.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! <3


End file.
